


This is Halloween

by Pom_Rania



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-23 20:59:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 7,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8342515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pom_Rania/pseuds/Pom_Rania
Summary: Halloween-themed oneshots.Tags will be added as needed.





	1. Like a Banshee

The humans – the Imperials – called it a disease, a disorder, a madness. They called it baseless superstition. They said it was only a coincidence that death followed the screamers. 

Zeb’s people knew better. The dead were not bound by time. They screamed their anger and pain at their deaths, before and after the moment it occurred, through the mouths of anyone they could reach. Anyone who was close. Sometimes the closeness was in space, sometimes the closeness was in relationships. The dead were not bound by the constraints of the living.

Not every death was heralded by screaming. Only some mouths could be easily reached by the dead. The more who had died, and the greater their pain, the higher the likelihood of screaming. The higher the number of screamers. The sooner the screaming started. 

One month before the fall of Lasan, the screaming began in almost every household. 

Zeb had never been the one to scream. Only some were easily reached by the dead. But numbers and sheer power could overcome most resistance.

As he lay pinned in the wreckage of his broken world and broken life, surrounded by the dead who had died in agony, he felt his mouth being forced open, and screams that didn’t come from him pushed their way out past his throat.


	2. The "Who" When You Call "Who's There"

They had barely walked away from the shuttle when Kanan stirred. “Let’s go,” he said, “there’s nobody here.”

Ezra looked up sharply at him. “Are you sure? These are the coordinates we were supposed to meet our contact at, and they gave no sign that anything was wrong. Besides,” he waved a hand, “I can see people off in the distance.”

Kanan frowned, and Ezra mentally winced. Had he said something wrong again? He never meant to imply that Kanan’s sensing wasn’t good enough, but they were still learning the limits of his abilities.

Kanan took off his mask, like he sometimes did when concentrating on the Force, and his expression grew distant. “No,” he slowly said. “There’s something out there, but it isn’t people.”

That didn’t make sense. 

Ezra looked again. There was something that looked a bit odd, but he couldn’t quite figure out what.... “I’m going to get the macrobinoculars to check,” he called. 

“Ezra. Whatever I felt... it’s close.” 

Rustling noises, and he turned. 

A figure, half-crouched beside the shuttle, concealed in its shadow. 

Why hadn’t he sensed it? 

It slowly moved... no, not slowly, haltingly. Jerky movements, like a poorly-controlled puppet, and every instinct in his body screamed that this was _wrong_.

“I think I see it,” he quietly said. “Eighty-five degrees to your left.”

Kanan froze. “That’s not where I – there’s more. I can’t get a clear bead on them, it’s like there’s nothing there to sense.... We should leave. They might not be a threat, but our contact isn’t here and I don’t want to risk it.”

“Good plan.”

Ezra had learned how to move around wild animals and people with a hair-trigger temper: no sudden motions, no eye contract, broadcasting _non-threatening and not interesting_ as clearly as he could. He slowly backed away, and glanced around him. Now that he was looking, he could see that odd unnatural motion in all directions. 

“I think we’re surrounded.”

“Is there a clear path to the shuttle?”

“Yes, so long as they don’t get any close _aah_ dammit.” He tripped on a rock, and there was sudden silence before he felt all attention focus on him; without a Force presence, which was weird by itself. 

The sound of many bodies turning as one, in perfect synchrony.

Then –

“Kanan, they’re coming towards us!”

“I know, I can hear it! Maybe I can barely sense them but they still make noise, and I think now might be a good time to run!”

They did.

Kanan couldn’t look at all, and Ezra didn’t bother to look back.

He didn’t look when a limb reached for him, just dodged based on the Force and peripheral vision. He didn’t look when he practically threw himself into the shuttle and slammed the door controls, it would only slow him down.

When they were ready to leave, something thudded against the window from outside, and he automatically looked. 

He would regret that in the nights to come, when he would wake from unpleasant dreams and remember. 

“What happened? How bad is it?”

“We’re... fine...” he managed, but couldn’t shake the image of that _face_ on the figure, pressed against the window and looking in. 

“I hope you’re able to fly, because you know I can’t see.”

Ezra stared intently at the navigational controls, as if he could burn that image into his mind and overwrite the latest thing he had seen. 

“You’re lucky.”


	3. Say It Twice

It was hard to remember to breathe. It came naturally with speech, the habit of a lifetime and beyond. Exertion automatically made her lungs expand. But when she was at rest, at home, Sabine... stopped. There was no need for air, and no need to hide. 

She had been left for dead, and she had died.

Everybody around her already knew.

Chopper had found her. Hera had held her hand as she bled out. Zeb had performed funereal rites. Kanan had guided her back. 

Going out was not a problem. Her armour concealed her lack of chest movements when she forgot, and her helmet covered everything else. The smell of her regular embalming treatments (and she had thought being dead meant no longer having to deal with monthly unpleasantness, but that unfortunately was not the case, it was just a different kind) was overpowered by the scent of paint and explosives. Regularly dyeing her hair kept casual acquaintances from noticing how her face never aged as would be expected.

Strangers were not a problem. People saw what they expected to see, whether that was an obedient cadet or a terrified villager or a living breathing person. If anybody noticed her colouring was off, it was easily marked down as non-human ancestry. Even if by some random chance they came to the conclusion that she was dead, what could they do? She was already wanted by the Empire, and had dodged it successfully thus far. 

Ezra was the problem. He was on the ship, with them, and he hadn’t been there from her beginning. She had to watch every breath around him, almost literally. At first it had been easy, when it was only going to be for a short time, but the strain was getting to her; both the strain of having to concentrate, and of keeping a secret from him. 

“...ng seems off about Sabine.”

(Her heart didn’t skip a beat. Her heart was an immobile mass of scarred tissue.)

Kanan’s reply was too quiet to hear, but Ezra’s voice was loud enough as she stood outside the door.

“It’s like, her presence feels different. Kind of muted, I guess, if I had to describe it. But it’s not because she’s a girl or because she’s in armour or because she’s a girl in armour, the bucketheads don’t feel that way and I’m pretty sure I can tell which ones are male and which ones are female.”

Kanan’s voice grew clearer, as he presumably walked closer to where she was. “...can’t... not my story to tell... have to ask her yourself. And if she doesn’t want to talk about it, respect her wishes and drop the subject.”

She felt warmth running through her. Kanan was family, as were Hera and Zeb and Chopper, regardless of everybody’s ancestry or biology (or lack thereof). You didn’t keep secrets from family, at least not big ones. 

Was Ezra family? 

_Yes._

She inhaled the breath she didn’t need and knocked on the door.


	4. The Clown With the Tear-Away Face

“Children, children, please. Allow Hondo to get you out of this mess!”

Hera rolled her eyes behind his back and fought the urge to say that she was hardly a child, and everybody else in the room might actually be older than the pirate. 

Commander Sato made a valiant effort to avoid facepalming. “You are the reason we are in this mess to begin with. Please, enlighten us as to how you intend to rectify the situation.”

Hondo laughed. “I recognize the ship. Surely I can come to some sort of a deal with its captain. Once I get paid for my services,” he quickly added.

“We can discuss that afterwards,” Hera said, in the same tone of voice she used whenever the kids started a particularly silly competition.

In her mind she saw what would happen. The pirates – the _second_ group of pirates – would board the ship, Hondo would get in an argument with them and barely avoid getting shot, somebody would make off with –

The blast came as a shock. She fell to her knees, out of the fireball’s path, and the heated air burned her lungs. A portion of Hondo’s head was simply vaporized. Sato screamed as shrapnel tore through his midsection, or she thought he screamed, her ears were ringing.

She felt numb all over. _No, not like this...._

Everything stopped. 

The screaming, the crashing, even the flames no longer flickered. Hondo walked over, picked up his hat, and put in on what remained of his head. 

“This is not good business!” his face shouted from where it lay on the ground.

A sharp rumble answered him, the only sound in the void as she held her breath.

“I don’t care, you still owe me now,” he yelled back, face now dangling from his fingers. 

She had to breathe. 

Hondo, or whatever it was that had looked like him, turned to the noise she made. He didn’t crouch to look directly at her, but their eyes were still level. “Captain Syndulla,” he said. “This is a surprise, I must confess.”

She made inarticulate noises. Her gaze darted back and forth between the face held in his hands, the emptiness on his head where a face would normally be, the frozen tableau of suffering and destruction in the background....

“Ah, I can’t have this happening. Your Rebellion is much too interesting for it to suffer such a loss here, especially when –” he made a noise she couldn’t hope to replicate – “is to blame for it.” 

Blood flowed back into reassembled bodies, flames and scorch marks vanished, and everything looked exactly how it did before the blast. 

“The Empire....” He made a dismissive gesture, with the hand that held his face. His eyes kept tracking her throughout the movement. “So boring, and _no_ sense of humour whatsoever. Even the Jedi were better than them. Still. At least this has been profitable in one sense, and I know to keep an eye on you. But right now I can’t have you remembering anything.”

He put his face back on, exactly like a mask. It flowed seamlessly into the rest of his head. He extended a finger to her forehead –

– Hondo would get in an argument with them and barely avoid getting shot, somebody would make off with a shuttle they hadn’t arrived in, there would be a lot of running, and she would get a headache from managing the chaos that always followed Hondo.


	5. Filling Your Dreams

His dreams weren’t nightmares. Kallus was intimately acquainted with nightmares, and these were different. 

They all started innocuously enough. He would walk into a room, a workshop, a clearing, where somebody – he rarely recognized the species or culture – was working on an object. He would watch them carve, paint, sketch, tend, measure, but never saw what it was. Once they were satisfied with their creation, they would turn and look directly at him. Sometimes they said something, but he couldn’t make out the words. 

That was when the dream shifted into more familiar territory. Battle, fire, explosion, defeat. Despair. The details blurred in his memory, there were so many from earlier dreams and his personal history, but they were all of scenes he had never himself experienced. Something was bought, or stolen, or taken from the ashes, and it was superimposed over the destruction. 

He didn’t wake up feeling terrified, only vaguely disquieted. When he looked at his face in the mirror, trying to wash sleep and nagging sensations away, he would see somebody else – the artist from his dream – before he blinked and his reflection showed only himself again. 

The closest he got to anything understandable was when he recently dreamed of a green twi'lek woman who looked vaguely familiar, like she might be related to somebody he had encountered. He managed to make out the word “daughter”, and that was it. 

If he thought about it, the dreams began around the time that he first encountered Grand Admiral Thrawn.


	6. Here in a Flash

The crate did not match any known parameters. Its arrival was not stored in Chopper’s memory, nor was its intended destination logged. For two days, its presence was filed under “currently-anomalous data, low priority”; and then, when no clarifying data had been acquired, information-gathering routines were triggered. 

First: simple examination. External dimensions and apparent composition were within one-half standard deviation of the most commonly encountered portable storage units. Chemical sensors did not detect any scent emanating from within. There were no visible markings. It did not move when pushed, which either set a lower bound for its weight, or indicated a form of fastening into place. 

Second: review of internal logs. Timestamps on his memories of the crate, or lack thereof, revealed the window of time in which it could have been loaded. A significant percentage of that interval had been spent in hyperspace, thus making any arrival in the period extremely unlikely. Secondary memory searches, on the behaviour of the organics in the vicinity, sent back anomalous results. There was zero interaction with the crate observed, which pattern had previously occurred only with presumed-hazardous materials. However, no caution or avoidance responses had been observed either. 

Third: direct interrogation. 

“What crate? Guess that last bump must have knocked a few circuits loose, not that you have too many to spare now.” 

In the subsequent chase of GarazebOrrelios, his optic sensors (poor as they were, being organic) never focused on the crate, nor did he climb it to escape as was a previously-exhibited tendency. Conclusion: highly anomalous situation, moderate priority, routines to consult with CaptainHeraSyndulla activated. 

“What is it, Chop?”

He summarized his observations and conclusions. 

Blood circulation to her face apparently decreased abruptly. Her head made rapid partial rotations to scan the environment. 

“We don’t talk about it. Please.”

She had failed to give an answer, and her request had no logic behind it. 

“It’s not a thing we can discuss, not now, not here. Once we’re planetside, and I have some time to prepare, I might be able to safely explain it to you. But for now, you have to ignore it, and pretend that you don’t know it’s there either.” 

The crate was gone the next day. Nobody docked, no other cargo had been loaded or unloaded. Nobody noticed its disappearance, except for Chopper and CaptainHeraSyndulla.


	7. Teeth Ground Sharp and Eyes Glowing Red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We interrupt your regularly-scheduled horror for a dose of silliness.   
> Credit to prepare4trouble for "Champire".

Hera sat down next to Kanan. “Do I even want to know?” she asked in a low voice. “About Ezra.”

Kanan grimaced. “Minor training accident, liquid painkillers, I didn’t know he’d bitten the inside of his cheek and it’s not like I could read the label... there you have it. Sabine tells me it should subside in an hour or two, but until then, we’re stuck with it.”

Ezra noticed her arrival, and turned away from the long-suffering Sabine. “Oh hi Hera!” he brightly said. “That Cham guy, he was something else, huh? He’s your father, and he looks like a vampire.” He giggled. “A Champire.”

“What’s a vampire?” she whispered.

“Old human monster legend. Just wait, he’ll probably tell you more than you ever wanted to know.”

Ezra had been admiring his finger joints. “I mean, he’s got the big fancy house – shame about the house, it was cool – the accent, the sharp teeth, the red eyes.... He doesn’t have the moustache – can twi'lek guys even grow moustaches? Sucks to be them – and he didn’t turn into a bat, but it was daylight for a bunch of it so I guess he wouldn’t.”

There was so much wrong with what he had just said and she felt vaguely insulted, but she knew there was no point in arguing with someone high as a satellite. “What’s a ‘bat’?” she hissed instead.

Kanan paused. “I don’t actually know. Some type of Lothal animal, maybe?”

“Champire. Heh, that’s a good one. Hey, Kanan! Next time we fight with Champire, make sure it’s night so he can use the full extent of his vampiric powers.”

Hera slowly buried her head in her hands. Kanan patted her back. “It’s not just you; you should have heard what he came up with about Mandalorians. Chopper recorded the whole thing, and I think Sabine is planning a revenge mural. She’ll welcome your input on it, and please try to convince her that none of this is my fault. Just because I won’t be able to see it, doesn’t mean I want to be painted looking like a fool.”

She glanced over to Sabine, who was furiously sketching and very intently ignoring Ezra. “I don’t think anyone will notice it, compared to how she’ll draw Ezra.”


	8. Shadows on the Moon at Night I

The lights on the Ghost suddenly flickered and went out. A scream and a thud came from the front of the ship. 

“I’ll check on Hera and Chopper,” Kanan’s voice said, and Sabine heard footsteps moving away, over the pounding of her heart. 

It was almost completely black. She could just barely make out the glow from her wrist device, as her eyes slowly adjusted to the dark, but that illuminated nothing. 

The noise had jolted Ezra awake. “Whah... what happened?” he groggily asked. “Why’s it so dark?”

“I don’t know; it just happened, Hera screamed, and Kanan went to check on her. Care to shed some _light_ on the situation?”

“Huh?”

Nobody was at their best when they just woke up, she reminded herself. “Your lightsaber?”

From the sounds, she imagined him rubbing his eyes. “Oh, yeah, that.” He hesitated. “Where’s Zeb and Chopper? I don’t want to hurt anyone when I turn it on.”

“Chopper was with Hera, and I think Zeb’s in the ‘fresher.” 

“Okay, good.”

There was the now-familiar sound of a lightsaber being ignited, and the room was bathed in a green glow. She blinked at the sudden light, then blinked again as she thought she saw something in the corner of her vision. It was gone when she looked directly at it. 

She heard a dull thumping, then Zeb’s voice, muffled through the walls. “Guys? Whoever turned the lights out on me, you’re gonna pay for that. I think I just bruised my knee.”

“It wasn’t us,” she yelled back. “The whole ship’s gone dark, as far as I can see.”

“Well that’s just –”

“I need someone over here,” Kanan called from the cockpit. “Hera’s unconscious, and I can’t check her pupils myself.”

She exchanged glances with Ezra. “You go retrieve Zeb, and also get some flashlights. There’s a spare up front, and I think I can make my way over there easily enough. I also have more med experience than you, let’s just hope I don’t need it.”

“Got it.”

They split up, and she judged the distance to the door before Ezra’s light grew too dim to see by. Her estimation wasn’t entirely accurate, and she fumbled a bit, but eventually made it. 

The cockpit was partially illuminated by the glow of hyperspace through the windows; enough to see Hera’s motionless form sprawled out on the ground, and Kanan crouched beside her, even if not any details. 

Kanan turned his head towards her. “Took you long enough.”

She spread her hands. “The lights were all out.”

“Huh.” He considered it. “That would explain a lot. Can you see well enough in here?”

“Somewhat... there’s the light from the windows, and a flashlight – got it. What do I need to look at?”

“I didn’t smell any blood, but she could have injuries that didn’t break the skin. You would know what to do. Her breathing and pulse seemed normal, so.... I’m going to look at Chopper now.”

The droid had been strangely quiet. “What’s wrong with him?”

She pictured Kanan raising an eyebrow behind his mask. “I don’t know yet. Hopefully I’ll find out.”

She examined Hera; she didn’t seem hurt, and there was nothing to indicate any sort of head trauma. Sabine carefully lifted an eyelid to compare pupil size and response. Both were healthy, but....

“This is a bit odd. Hera’s eyes are moving, like she’s dreaming.”

“Speaking of odd, Chopper was powered down, and I’m just bring him back up now. Deactivated from the outside. Hera must have done that before collapsing, but why?”

Sabine tapped her lips. “You wouldn’t know, but the lights went out right before she screamed. Maybe there was some sort of power surge?” She idly shined her flashlight over the inactive consoles. “Hopefully Chopper will know.” She thought she saw something move, but it must have just been a reflection or a shadow. 

“Hopefully.”

“Now that I have a light, I’m going to get a blanket and pillow for Hera. She should be comfortable, and it’s easier than moving her.” When had it gotten so cold? She shivered. Hopefully that wasn’t a sign of more systems shutting down. 

The Ghost looked strange in the dark, with weird shadows forming as the beam of light passed over objects. She had never even noticed some of those angles she went past on the way to her room (she didn’t feel comfortable entering Hera’s quarters for blankets). That one looked almost like –

“Mandalorian.”

She spun around. Her blasters weren’t on her at the moment, and the flashlight would make a poor weapon, but – wait. There couldn’t be anyone else on the ship. “Knock it off, guys,” she announced. “This isn’t funny.”

“On the contrary.”

She... she recognized that voice. She slowly turned, to see a figure step out of the shadows and out of her nightmares.

“I find it quite amusing.”

“Maul,” she breathed, and involuntarily stepped back. 

He bared his teeth in a grin. “We meet again, little Mandalorian.”

She frantically shook her head. “No. You can’t be here.”

“And why not?” He languidly stretched, and she was reminded of nothing so much as a giant cat cornering its prey. “I see you’ve redecorated your room. I’m not sure I like it.”

She closed her eyes. “You’re not really here,” she forced out through gritted teeth. “This isn’t real.”

He leaned in close. “Are you sure?” he whispered, breath cold against her skin. 

She wildly struck out – and her hands passed through empty air. Of course.

The flashlight dropped from her fingers and clattered against the floor. She let it roll as she tried to catch her breath. 

She was just... imagining things. That was it. As she collected the blanket and pillow, she tried to convince herself of that.


	9. Shadows on the Moon at Night II

Chopper came back online with an angry beep and demanded to know what had happened.

“Good to hear you too,” Kanan said, “but I was hoping you could help with that. Hera’s unconscious, Sabine told me the lights are all out, and you were turned off. What’s the last thing you remember?”

The droid hesitantly buzzed. There had been no environmental anomalies detected, but CaptainHeraSyndulla made a sudden fear response before he was powered down.

“So Hera did that?”

No.

Kanan felt a sudden chill running down his spine. Something was very wrong here, but he didn’t know what. “Can you connect to the terminal?” 

He heard whirring, then the affirmative. The display lights were unresponsive, Chopper reported, but the terminal itself was functional.

“See if you can figure out what happened. I’m going to...” do what? He sighed. “I’m going to think about what to do.”

He sunk into the copilot’s seat. It was no longer molded to his form, but it was still familiar. He knew exactly where to reach for the console or controls. He had done that for years. 

Hera was mysteriously unconscious and possibly dreaming, Chopper had been somehow deactivated, it was cold, and all the lights were apparently out. Wait. When did it get cold? He opened his mouth to ask Chopper about that, then froze. 

Somebody else was in the cockpit with them. He could suddenly feel an extra presence. Think. Nobody had entered, so they must not be physically there; and he had heard of visitations, even if he hadn’t experienced it himself. The presence was familiar but he didn’t recognize it, which meant it had to be from someone he had known before, back when he primarily remembered people by how their faces looked.

“Who are you?” he quietly asked. 

Maybe the person couldn’t make themself heard, only seen; it was never something covered in lessons, only tales and rumours. He expanded his awareness, to be as receptive as possible.

The spike of icy cold took him by surprise, and he almost fell out of the chair. That... that was undeniably the dark side. And at that painful intensity, he could immediately recognize it. 

The Inquisitor. 

“What do you want with me?”

“Kanan Jarrus.” 

He felt vibrations in the ground moving around him, from footsteps that could not possibly exist in the physical world. There was a smell, too, of smoke and reactor fuel. Had the Inquisitor always carried that scent, and he had just never noticed it, or was it because of his manner of death? 

“Stand up.”

The command had the full authority of a former Temple Guard behind it, and Kanan automatically obeyed. Once he realized what he’d done he was already on his feet, so he just leaned against the back of the seat instead of standing up straight. 

“You easily felt my presence, and quickly identified me. Not many Jedi had your skill with sensing.” He could feel the Inquisitor studying him. “Then again, not many Jedi were as foolish as you either, to drop your guard around a known Sith. Pathetic. You never would have made it in the old Order. You were lucky to lose only your sight instead of your life from that mistake.” 

It was nothing he hadn’t already told himself, thousands of times, in the long months that had followed. There was no point in dwelling on it any more though; what was done was done, and all that mattered was moving forward, and working with what he had now. 

He crossed his arms. “Is that what you’re here for?” he demanded. “To tell me I’d made some poor decisions and paid for them?”

“ _Some_ poor decisions?” The Inquisitor laughed. “Your entire life had been a series of poor decisions when I first encountered you, and it seems to only have gotten worse since my death. For one example....” He extended a hand, and Kanan’s mask pulled away from his face. 

Kanan involuntarily gave a slight gasp, from both the shock of cold air against his eyelids, and the surprise that a visitation could affect the world in such a way. (And if he could do this, what else could he do?) 

The Inquisitor turned the mask over in his hands. “You feel the need to cover your scar, and your eyes, but more than that, this design painted on your mask, and what it represents. Surely you were aware of it. This is a Mandalorian symbol, also used by the clones, referred to as _jaig_ eyes. No true Mandalorian would willingly associate with a Jedi, so it must have been given to you by a clone. A disposable soldier that has long since passed its prime and should have been discarded by now.”

“Rex is my friend,” Kanan shot back. “Don’t speak of him that way.”

“‘Rex’? To get so attached, to a clone of all people... your master should have taught you better than that. Or maybe she was neglectful. It would explain your own continued failings in that regard.”

“I do the best I can.”

“Some of the time, maybe. But you abandoned the boy and the Force itself to wallow in your own emotions, and he sought out alternate methods of instruction.” The Inquisitor leaned in close, and Kanan forced himself to not draw back. “The dark side calls to him, stronger than ever. Were I still alive, I would train him, show him what he needs to know, and make him strong. Certainly I could do better than you.”

How did one banish a visitation? He knew of various superstitions surrounding ghosts, but wasn’t sure they would apply here. 

“But your greatest failing, your greatest weakness....” The Inquisitor stepped away, but there was no relief, only dread. “The woman. Your captain, but she is so much more to you than that. The Jedi were wrong about a great many things, but they understood the danger of attachments. I will do you a favour by removing her. If you insist on continuing down your meaningless path, you will be free of distractions from her; or perhaps, in your grief and rage and anger, you will come to understand what true power really is.”

Hera!

No!

The mask fell unheeded to the ground as the Inquisitor vanished. Kanan breathed deep, put his lightsaber back, and went to check on Hera. He was distantly aware of Chopper beeping a question at him, but that wasn’t as important right now.

Hera was okay. Good. “What was that, Chopper? I didn’t catch it.”

Scan results were now available, but who had KananJarrus been addressing? Nothing had registered to visual sensors, audio sensors had detected faint buzzing, and there had been abnormal localized temperature variations.

“It was....” Kanan shook his head. “It’s over now, it doesn’t matter. What were the scan results?”

All systems were functioning normally, except for the lighting. It was not drawing power and seemed as though (Chopper grunted at the uncertainty) something was blocking the light.setting=ON command.

So it wasn’t a mechanical problem or an energy surge, and Kanan had no idea of what to do. It had to be connected somehow with the visitation. That timing could not be simply coincidental. 

Most people would fear being stuck in the dark. He had, before. 

Sabine was approaching, and fear leaked from her.

“What happened? Are you okay? – Careful, you’re going to step on that.”

She walked around it, set the blankets down, and picked up his mask. “Why is your – did something happen with you too?”

Sometimes, he really missed being able to exchange glances. “I had a visitation. The Inquisitor. He... he threatened Hera.”

“...I saw Maul,” she said in a small voice. “Is Hera okay?”

“No change, unless there’s something you can see.”

“Well, she’s going to be comfortable and warm now,” Sabine announced with forced cheer. “After all, it’s not like they could actually do anything, right? _Right_?”

Kanan sighed. “He was able to take my mask off,” he slowly admitted. “We need to get the others.”


	10. Shadows on the Moon at Night (Interlude)

“Shut up,” Zeb muttered. “You’re not physically present, you’re not a hologram, you’re not a ghost, I’m not dreaming, and I would never hallucinate someone like you, so there is no reason for you to be here. Go away.”

Kallus, or the image of Kallus, crossed his arms and sneered. “Just like your crude species, relying on superstition and discounting everything your tiny minds can’t grasp. I did the galaxy a favour by ordering your extermination.”

Zeb felt a growl beginning to form in his throat. “That’s not what you said, back on that moon.”

Kallus scoffed. “Did you really believe that? You had held my life in your hands, and I would have said anything just to stay alive.” 

It wasn’t really him... but maybe it was true anyways. 

—

Ezra swung wildly at the impossible form in front of him. She was dead. He hadn’t killed her (it was Maul’s suggestion so probably a bad idea), but he had seen her die, seen her fall to the ground in two pieces. 

“You could never do it.” The Seventh Sister smiled. “And you never will be able to.”

Her body flickered like the shadows cast by his moving lightsaber, as the blade simply passed through her. 

“You don’t have the strength to protect anyone or anything, and your friends will die, and you will die.”

—

Chopper patrolled the cockpit. Nothing was going to harm CaptainHeraSyndulla while he was present. Ambient temperature had sharply decreased, but it was still well within the safety margins of humanoid specifically twi'lek tolerance. Auditory sensors continued to pick up faint buzzing, which was approaching the threshold for “incoherent speech” classification, but that was irrelevant. 

—

Unseen by anyone, Hera’s lips slowly moved.

“Th... rawn....”


	11. Shadows on the Moon at Night III

It only made sense to stay next to Kanan. He was a Jedi, he seemed to have a better handle on what was going on, and there was no risk of him at least tripping in the dark. Those were the only reasons Sabine had, and it had absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with how afraid she might be. 

“It’s still cold,” she whispered, and leaned into him. 

He put an arm around her shoulder. “There’s probably a connection. Chopper said that all systems were working fine except for the lights, and it was only colder in some areas.”

“Well, at least that’s good to know.”

“Do you see anything unusual?”

She looked around. “Maybe... I don’t know. I can see the shadows moving, but the light is also moving, so....” She shrugged. “You? Feel anything, I mean.”

“It’s hard to tell. I don’t have much reference to compare this to.”

“Where are they?” she wondered. “It shouldn’t have taken that long for Ezra to get the flashlights, and I would have thought that he’d light the way for Zeb first.” 

She saw his brow furrow; he hadn’t put his mask back on. “Zeb is in the fresher, and Ezra –”

There was a crash and a wordless shout.

She turned. “That’s Ezra! We should split up.”

“No.” He grabbed her wrist. “We stay together, until we know it’s safe. Zeb is closer, let’s get him first.”

As they drew nearer, Sabine could hear his voice through the door. 

“...no, you... okay, but I... don’t...”

She knocked. "Are you okay in there?” she called.

“...didn’t really....”

“I’m opening the door.” 

In the shadows cast by her flashlight, she saw the image of Kallus. He gave a mocking wave, then vanished. 

Zeb squinted at her. “I... I’m not going crazy, I swear. There was....” He shuddered.

“Don’t worry about it,” Kanan said. “I’m just glad you’re fine.”

“There’s been....” She didn’t know what to call it. “There’s been _stuff_ happening. With both of us, and now you too, and probably Ezra and Hera. We want to make sure everyone is together and safe.

"And sorry, I don’t have a flashlight for you, you’ll have to make do with just this one I have.”

Zeb waved her off, and displayed his own light. “It’s okay, I managed to find this thing. I was about to go out when... _he_ showed up.”

She heard something in his voice. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“Good,” he curtly said. “Because I don’t.”

She could understand that, and they kept going. 

There was another crash, close, and almost a howl.

“Is Ezra still safe?” she quickly said. “That didn’t sound good.”

Kanan hesitated. “He seems unharmed,” he said, “but whatever he’s experiencing, it’s not pleasant. You two should stay back, just in case.” 

He rapped on the door. “Ezra?” No response. He opened it, and a faint green light spilled out.

Sabine peered around Kanan’s shoulders, to see Ezra pointlessly striking at a shadowy figure who danced around him. He didn’t appear to notice them, or anything else; as she watched, his shoulder impacted a crate he could have easily avoided.

“I don’t know who that is,” Kanan quietly said, “but it feels familiar. Can either of you see the other presence?”

“It’s that lady Inquisitor. I remember her,” Zeb said. 

“Lots of bad memories,” Sabine agreed. 

Kanan stepped forward into the room. “Ezra? Ezra, stop. It’s not doing anything.” 

Ezra swung his blade through the figure, who remained unscathed. The light caught a glitter on his face. Were those... was he crying? 

Kanan sighed. “Fine then.” He held out his hand, and the green lightsaber flew out of Ezra’s grip and toward him. 

Ezra turned, and seemed to see something completely different; then blinked. “I....” He looked at his hands, as if confused to not be holding his lightsaber any more. “She....”

The female Inquisitor looked directly at Sabine, smiled, and disappeared. 

“Come on,” Kanan said. “We should probably get back to Hera and Chopper now.”

He led their little party towards the cockpit. He didn’t _look_ frightened or nervous, but Sabine knew that didn’t say much. She had only seen him visibly afraid a handful of times, and most of them where when he was tired or in pain or otherwise not in control. 

By all rights, the ship should not look that dark around them. There were two flashlights and a lightsaber with them, all pointed in slightly different directions. There should be plenty of light. 

She shivered. The shadows moved.


	12. Shadows on the Moon at Night IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween!   
> This is it for this series; hope you enjoyed it, and I know I enjoyed writing it.

“Can they... can they actually do anything, besides speak and look threatening?” Zeb whispered.

Sabine looked around at the figures in the shadows; they flickered when her beam of light passed over them, but quickly reformed. “Maybe? Kanan said one took his mask off... I don’t feel like testing it.”

“We just need to get past them, and get to Hera and Chopper,” Ezra said, like he was trying to convince himself. “No big deal.”

One of the shadows stepped forward: the Inquisitor, the first Inquisitor, and he showed his pointed teeth as he smiled. “I’m afraid it will not be that easy.” He waved a hand, but nothing visibly changed.

Ezra edged to the door. It didn’t open. He pounded at the sensor. It stayed closed.

“Guess there’s your answer,” Sabine hissed to Zeb.

“So what do we do now?”

“I don’t know!”

“Chopper!” Kanan called. “Hera!”

No response. Finally, a single beep from Chopper.

“You shouldn’t worry about them,” the female Inquisitor purred, “not when you need to worry about yourselves.” She drew close, dodging Ezra’s lightsaber. “It’s a shame you ruined such a pretty face,” she said in Kanan’s ear, and he actually _flinched_.

“Don’t touch me,” he hoarsely said. 

The other shapes came closer, surrounding them. Their forms weren’t always clear, sometimes they blurred together, and they appeared and disappeared at will. Sabine couldn’t get a count on them. Most she recognized; a few she didn’t, but the others seemed to. 

It was so cold. There was warmth with her back against the others, and security, but for how long? 

The whispering. It started quietly, then seemed to drown out all other noise. This wasn’t something she could fight or shoot. Faces and hands and smiles and voices and words and _cold_. 

Zeb yelped and drew back his hand. “Can’t get through them,” he managed. Frost was slowly melting from his fingers. 

People she had tried to forget moved and danced in front of her. A blue glow joined the green as Kanan ignited his lightsaber. Her flashlight shook. Hera was still out there. The voices talked over each other, but she could hear more than she ever wanted to.

“– might is unassailable, there is nothing you can do against –”

“– feel it under your teeth, and only by sheer hatred –”

“– screamed and screamed and stumbled, you should have been –”

“– and they will, exactly as I planned –”

“– things more frightening than death, and –”

Beep. 

A new light source. The sound of the door closing.

Hera!

She stumbled towards them, leaning on Chopper. She was shaking, badly, and her teeth clattered.

The figures drew back.

Hera swayed, and Kanan caught her as her legs gave out. 

They helped her into a chair. Chopper passed over a blanket, one that Sabine had brought. She wrapped it around Hera’s shoulders, and heard what she was muttering: “...from them, stay away from them, stay away....”

“Hera,” Kanan quietly said. “What happened? How can we help?”

She looked up at him. “Need to concentrate,” she managed, and went back to her litany. “Stay away from them, stay away from them....”

Whatever she was doing, it seemed to work; the shadows stayed distant, with only a faint whisper. But she was obviously exhausted, shivering hard, and might not be able to keep it up.

_Think!_ Sabine told herself. Maybe the situation was entirely out of her hands, and there was nothing whatsoever she could do, but maybe it wasn’t.

The shadows moved.

The shadows....

She had had her flashlight. Zeb had found one. Ezra had had his lightsaber. Kanan had been in the cockpit, and even if he couldn’t see it, there had been some light from the windows. 

Light cast shadows.

It was a long shot, but she couldn’t think of anything else.

“Guys?” she hesitantly started. “This might sound silly, but I think we should turn off the lights.”

“You’re right,” Ezra said. “That does sound silly.”

“Zeb. He didn’t show up before you had a light on, right?” 

“Yeah....”

“I think it’s the shadows. If there’s no light, there’s no shadows.”

“This doesn’t seem like a very good idea,” Ezra mumbled.

“Do you have a better one?”

Kanan shrugged. “It makes no difference to me.”

“Hera?”

“...them, stay away from them....”

“Chopper, any input on the subject?”

Negative.

Sabine took a deep breath, covered her wrist device, and turned off her flashlight. Zeb did the same. Chopper powered down his illumination. Ezra hesitated, but deactivated his lightsaber, and then it was dark.

And quiet.

And... not as cold.

Hera stirred next to Sabine. “That’s better,” she sighed. 

“Hera!” Sabine went to hug her, but missed in the total darkness. “You’re okay. Do you know what that was? Are they gone now?”

“I can still feel them, but distantly. It seems your guess about the shadows was accurate. Good work,” and Sabine could hear the smile in her voice. “As for if they’re gone... they’ll leave eventually, but until then, we should keep the lights off.”

Ezra probably spread his hands. “No light means no reading, no art, no lightsabers... what are we supposed to do?”

“We can talk,” Kanan said.

And they did. 

Hours later, when the dark had become familiar, and fear was distant, Sabine yawned. She didn’t know what time it was – all displays were lighted, and thus forbidden – but her body told her it was time to sleep. 

Beside her, Ezra yawned too, then caught himself. 

“Seems like the kids are tired,” Hera gently noted. “Kanan?”

“I can take you to your rooms,” he said. “If you want to.”

“I’d rather not right now,” Ezra said, at the same time Sabine said “Sure”, but Kanan understood.

He held her arm as she got up, guided her around furniture, and led her to her bunk. She imagined his face, and his smile.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” she said, and closed her eyes.


End file.
